Mornhavon's Mad Mambo
by Aereal
Summary: Songfic challenge. Perhaps our favourite bad guy is not what you thought!


**This fic was inspired by Scream by Michael Jackson and Janet Jackson**

**I wrote this in response to a Challenge set by Louisiana Stephenic.**

**I have removed the lyrics that were previously here, as I have been told that they are not allowed to be in the public domain. Which is fair enough, for copyright reasons. So you will have to venture into the public domain yourself and Google them =)**

**This fic is not meant to resemble anything that would EVER happen in the GR books… I just was in a funny mood.**

**Disclaimer: I do not and would not and will never profit from anything I write here. The entire GR universe belongs to Kristen Britain, as you know already.**

hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha hahaha

**Mornhavon's Mad Mambo**

The Dark One sighed, the sound echoing across the star-streaked galaxies as he fell. Why did it have to be this way? He had done everything, tried everything to make himself the most powerful man in the world. He had done spells, he had squeezed more out of every ounce of magic than anyone had in history. He was sure of it. And what had happened? He had been assaulted by some blonde whelp of an Eletian (yeah yeah, he was an immortal, but he looked to be what, 17 years old?). Then he had been left to wander Blackveil in spirit form. Only able to inhabit the slimy creatures for a short time. And they stank. He wouldn't mind so much if any of them had any idea about personal hygiene. But he guessed that was too much to ask of a deformed beast.

And now? He had been flung off into space by some hormonal teenage girl who decided to smash the mirror mask. Probably suffering from PMS. The mirror mask of all things. Didn't she know what it could do for her? Obviously not, the bimbo didn't even have enough sense to look into it for herself. No, she had to destroy the one object that could have brought back all of his powers and more.

What did everyone have against him, I mean really?, he thought to himself. All he had wanted to be was all-powerful, was that so much to ask? All they had to do was obey him. It wasn't that difficult. They should have the sense to worship his total brilliance and perfection. After all he _was_ smarter than anyone he knew. But instead they turned against him. Oh, the injustice of it all.

He had even tried to talk to the Gods once. If they had've listened to him everything would have gone much more smoothly, for everyone. Why wouldn't they accept that a new world order (with him at the top of course) would be so much more structured and flawless? It would have been in everyone's best interests, and all those poor wittle wee savages wouldn't have got hurt. Wouldn't hurt the Gods anyway, they were safe on their nice fluffy cloud somewhere. Probably eating iced cloudberries while he had to drift through the dusty remains of the 3,109th comet he had seen so far. Space dust. Lovely. Astral planes containing ancient astronomical curiosities were all very nice, but he wanted his empire back.

There should be an avenue of complaint for this. Maybe when he got back to power, in perhaps, a millennia or two if he was lucky, he would set up a Victims Complaints Tribunal for Extremely Powerful Despots. With himself as Chief Magistrate, of course. He would consider his own complaint fairly, and then award himself full compensation from the Gods. A new golden palace would be nice.

Honestly, it was affecting his constitution, all of this. Well, besides the fact that he no longer had a mortal body. He could feel a stress-related headache building where his right temple used to be. Not to mention his right knee got a touch of gout on cold days; his eyesight was also affected by the strain of it all. Well, plummeting at nearly lightspeed through something resembling a layer of outer space couldn't be good for his retinal plasticity. The old ache near his heart where the Black Star had struck throbbed painfully.

Wait a minute… he was practically dead! Now that thought made him really mad. How dare they treat him like this? He wanted to shout at them. But all he could do was descend through the starry sky in some kind of mad pirouette.

**BAHAHAHHA …. You never knew Mornhavon was a poor victimised hypochondriac, did you?! **

**Well now you do, so read and review!**


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